


Terrible Claws

by Sineala



Category: Ancient History RPF
Genre: Crack, Dinosaurs, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Scipio visit the late Cretaceous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Claws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevenofspade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenofspade/gifts).



> You didn't say what kind of dinosaurs you wanted, so I went with Deinonychus. I also don't know what languages Hannibal actually spoke other than (presumably) Phoenician.
> 
> Thanks to Carmarthen for help with Cretaceous Nature Porn.

They had sent the interpreters away, because it happened that Hannibal spoke decent Greek. (Privately Scipio suspected him of knowing Latin and refusing to sully his mouth with it.) They had walked toward the tent together.

Then had come a great rush of air, and there was no tent. There were no troops. There was no Zama. They were nowhere in the world that Scipio knew. The air was still hot, but somehow thicker, richer. When he lifted his head -- he was sprawled next to Hannibal on the bank of a great lake -- the land beyond them was even stranger, hills topped with odd bare trees that lacked branches or leaves but for a great fan of needles at their peak, like the crest of an officer's helmet.

"Where--?" began Hannibal, groggily. 

"Quiet," he said, for he had seen what his enemy had not: movement.

A feathered creature darted over the nearest hill. It was half the height of a man, and most like a bird, if a thing could be said to be a bird when it had stunted wings, a long lizard's tail, and a mouth of deadly teeth.

It hissed and reached out one clawed hand, gathering itself to sprint toward them. Its huge eyes were fixed on them, like a lion tracking its prey. Those claws were fierce, but the creature, on the whole, was small. Whatever it was, it was no match for them.

While Scipio was untangling himself from the folds of his toga and trying to stand, Hannibal -- the gods be praised, he had not yet laid down his weapons for their parley before the two of them had been brought to this place -- was already on his feet. The man was a decade older and, Scipio thought, impressed, likely still just as good a fighter as he himself was.

"I shall take it," said Hannibal, and his sword was out of its sheath.

Then two more came over the hill.

Hannibal stepped back. "Or perhaps we should run."

* * *

They stood together, their backs against one of the strange trees, soaked in alien blood. They had killed one of the creatures and wounded another, and the third had left.

And Hannibal... was laughing.

"These are _wondrous_ beasts," he said. "They are better than elephants. If I could bring them to my troops, if I could train them, why, think of all the Romans I would--"

He looked at Scipio, his one good eye wide. He stopped talking.

"Thank you for saving my life," said Scipio, aware of how stiff, how formal the words were. Aware of how he had nothing but a dagger on him, when Hannibal had a sword. 

But Hannibal's own sword was sheathed again. Scipio could kill him now, if he wished. He might die in the killing, but he could take him.

The third beast had become distracted by a smaller, lizard-like beast, and it had leapt on it in the manner that an eagle swoops and pins its prey. It had prolonged the other beast's suffering. Hannibal could have let him die like that. Hannibal could have killed him himself in the fight.

Hannibal tilted his head in what Scipio supposed was acknowledgment. "You are the only other man I have seen here. You are Rome's greatest general. Your death would be a waste."

"So you will kill me as soon as we meet other men?"

The smile Hannibal gave him was all bared teeth, like the stalking smile of the bird-beast, and his hand was on his sword-hilt. "Or I might have grown fond of you by then. I know not what fate holds."

Scipio frowned. "I was told you swore never to be a friend to Rome."

"I might be a friend to a Roman." The smile now was kinder. "There are differences."

Above them, a great featherless bird swooped and cried out to one of its fellows. If they were not to go home yet, at least they lived, and there were worse people to be stranded with than Hannibal Barca.

Then Hannibal leaned on him, an arm about his shoulder, still smiling that kind smile, closer and closer still, and quite suddenly Scipio thought of several possible benefits of Hannibal's friendship.

"Yes," he said. Hannibal kissed him and disarmed him in one motion, and Scipio let him.


End file.
